


I'm in Love

by HarveyDangerfield, LondonQueen001



Series: Pressed Flowers [3]
Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Body Dysphoria, Canon Trans Character, Established Relationship, First Time, Insecurity, M/M, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-16
Updated: 2017-09-16
Packaged: 2018-12-30 07:29:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12103752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarveyDangerfield/pseuds/HarveyDangerfield, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LondonQueen001/pseuds/LondonQueen001
Summary: Following a thrilling wrestling match, Hugo and Damien find themselves finally, for the first time, without distraction or any reason not to consummate their relationship.





	I'm in Love

**Author's Note:**

> so this work immediately follows the previous one, as in this takes place the next day. You don't need to read the previous one to understand this one since this is just pure smut, you just need to know that damien took hugo to a wrestling match. but it is adorable so i highly recommend you read it anyway! 
> 
> also fair warning there is a lot of discussion about dysphoria in this, so be wary if heavy introspection about that sort of thing triggers your own dysphoria. with that in mind, please enjoy 7k words of smut!

There’s something about hotel beds that are always uncomfortable, no matter how nice the hotel. Damien had insisted on a fairly nice room and paid for it himself, and they climbed into bed fully clothed, with barely enough wherewithal to remove their shoes, and they pull the stiff blankets over their tangled bodies. There’s some half-hearted petting for a few minutes, as they pull one another’s glasses off, and Hugo braids Damien’s hair down his back while the man lazily unlaces his binder to pull it off from under his shirt, and while the minds are willing and they manage a single kiss, the bodies are not. They fall asleep with Damien draped over Hugo’s chest in minutes of checking in, without even turning the lights off.

  
  
Come morning, neither of them are particularly rested, but they want to be checked out and on the road by nine, so they can get home before noon. Damien laces up his binder changes his shirt, wearing the one that Hugo had bought for him the night before. He can only barely convince Hugo to put his shoes on. Damien was hoping to talk to Hugo more on the ride home, he wanted to ask him more questions about Victor and hopefully get a better picture in his mind of how Hugo was treated by him- but the poor man passes out in the car before they’ve even made it onto the highway. Damien doesn’t mind, he puts the classical station on softly and daydreams the whole ride home.

  
  
He brings Hugo home and intends to return to his own, but Hugo sleepily tugs him inside and up to the bedroom. Damien didn’t think at first that he would be able to fall asleep, but he could come off of a 24-hour coma and still be able to fall asleep in the comforting embrace of Hugo’s arms.

  
  
By the time they stir naturally, orange light of late afternoon is filtering in through the slats of Hugo’s wooden shades, bathing the room in a mystical sort of golden shine. Hugo looks like he’s made of molten copper in this light, all sleepy-eyed and rumpled and smiling up at Damien. He can’t help but bend down to give him a kiss, his braid slipping down off his shoulder to tickle his ear. Something feels very magical about this moment.

  
  
"You look beautiful." Hugo says softly, leaning back a little to just look at Damien. In the golden light filling the room the other man practically glows, a halo of light forming around him and making him look more ethereal than ever.

  
  
After a moment of just admiring the beautiful man in his bed Hugo pushes himself up so he can properly kiss him, one hand cupping his jaw while the other gently tugs the hair tie loose so he can tangle his fingers in soft ebony hair.

  
  
Damien’s hair has always been very thin and spidersilk soft, which was a pain in his backside in junior high when he was trying to really style it for the first time in anything other than pigtails on his shoulders. His hair has never really held a style well, so when Hugo takes the tie out of the end of his braid, it immediately falls loose in his fingers. Damien hums against Hugo’s mouth in delight, captivated by the sensation of Hugo’s big, warm hand carding through his long hair.

  
  
He pulls back from the kiss, his upper lip tingling in the way it always does when he kisses Hugo, and gives him a lazy smile. He’s gotten so used to pulling back before their kissing goes anywhere too far, always anticipating interruption.

  
  
“We should stop, before--”

  
  
But then it hits him. They’re alone in the house. Ernest won’t be home from his father’s house until Sunday afternoon. Hugo’s phone is in his coat downstairs, even if someone tried to call him, they wouldn’t hear it to be able to answer. For the first time since their first kiss, they actually don’t have to stop. His cheeks flush as he watches Hugo smile as he comes to the very same realization.

  
  
“Oh, my,” Damien murmurs, his ears darkening to match his cheeks. “I... suppose we don’t actually have to.”

  
  
Hugo shakes his head, grinning widely as he gently draws Damien back in to kiss him again. "No, we don't. We have the whole house to ourselves."

  
  
He pulls Damien into a deeper kiss, urging his mouth open with his tongue, not caring that they both only just woke up. He lets the hand cupping Damien's cheek drop so he can slip it under the hem of his shirt to feel the warm smooth skin beneath. He goes slowly, giving Damien every chance to tell him to stop while also working up the nerve to press onward himself. There's no doubt Hugo wants this, has wanted this for a long time, but first times are always awkward and it's been a long time since he's been this close to someone, he can't help but feel a little nervous. Amongst other reasons he tries not to think too hard about. Damien will tell him if he's doing something wrong.

  
  
Damien breathes harder through his nose as he lets Hugo guide him down onto his back. The bed feels especially soft right now, and the hand on his waist beneath his shirt burns him like a brand. He winds long arms around Hugo’s neck, a pulse starting up below the belt. When Hugo shifts, it presses his packer against his pubic bone, and he sees stars and gasps into his mouth.

  
  
Unbidden, of course, anxiety begins to bubble up in the back of his mind as Hugo’s hand wanders higher beneath his shirt. He’s not wearing his binder, he’d taken it off before falling into Hugo’s bed. He tries to choke down the anxiety, he reminds himself that it isn’t a _secret_ that he’s trans, Hugo _knows_ that, he’s seen him both with and without his binder on under his shirt, and furthermore Damien has spoken about it countless times with him. He knows, logically, that there’s no way Hugo will have _forgotten_ , and there’s no way he’ll be suddenly _startled_ by the presence of breasts- especially since if he so much as opened his eyes he could see the soft swell beneath Damien’s shirt. But there’s still that uncertain tickle in the back of his mind that sours the comfortable heat in his belly.

  
  
_Once he sees you naked for the first time, he’s going to **really** understand what he’s gotten himself into. He’s going to know it’s real, and he’s going to run away. He’s not attracted to men like you._

  
  
“Wait,” Damien says breathlessly, grabbing Hugo’s wrist. There are tears in his eyes despite himself. Hugo’s hand freezes instantly on his ribs. “I- I apologize, I just- I’m- you know I’m not- there isn’t- down there- I don’t have- you know- I’m sorry-”

  
  
Hugo sits back a little so he isn't looming over Damien, giving the other man a chance to breathe. He'd been afraid to overwhelm him, and had already been ready to stop before he even began. He pulls his hand out from under Damien's shirt and laces their fingers together. "Don't apologize, you have nothing to be sorry for," He says softly, meaning every word. His own nervousness fades away in the face of his lover's fear because Damien's worry is so much more and reassuring him is more important than his own anxiety. "I know Damien, I haven't forgotten. And, I don't really know what I'm doing but I want this with you. If you're not ready that's okay, we can stop. There's no rush but I do want you, I'm not going to change my mind and leave. You're just going to have to tell me a little more what you like and what to do."

  
  
Damien is breathing a little harder than normal, still flushed out to his ears. Hugo’s words are very reassuring, he’s never heard him say in no uncertain terms that he’s prepared to become face to face with a-- he can’t even _think_ the word, it makes his stomach flip. He swallows hard and nods, pulling Hugo closer to him again.

  
  
“I don’t want to stop. Heavens above, I want you,” he slides his hands down the sides of Hugo’s neck, to spread his fingers on his chest. “I’m just... I’m so very frightened that you’ll...” he sighs, his hands sliding back up to lace at the base of his neck. “It isn’t a judgement of you, it’s never been you. I’ve just been telling myself for so long now that I’m... I’m baggage.”

  
  
His voice trembles slightly, his breath shuddering out of him. “I’ve been telling myself to be grateful for whatever I get, no matter what it is, because I should know that I’m never anybody’s first choice. Nobody wants a product that tricks them with the wrong packaging- I’m not worth the gymnastics anyone would have to go through to be with me. _Normal_ people get together all the time and they have relationships, but there’s an extra step with me, an extra step I have no right to ask for because I’m not any better or any more special than anyone else.”

  
  
The tears leak into his ears, and he tugs Hugo down to rest their foreheads together. He’s never talked like this with Hugo before. He’s never talked about the swirling, black cloud in the back of his mind that always whispers uncertainties to him whenever he starts to feel a little bit too comfortable with his identity, reminding him that he’s _extra work._

  
  
“I’m sorry,” his voice, still trashed from the game yesterday, breaks and wheezes, and he trembles like a kitten against Hugo.

  
  
Hugo blinks away the tears that formed in his eyes during Damien's confession, the pain in his voice breaking his heart with every word. He realizes then, that this is Damien’s wrestling. This is the thing he’s kept so close to his chest for so long for fear of being criticized and rejected. But Damien can’t close the door to his wrestle room and put on a bow tie and pretend it isn’t there like Hugo can. Hugo could throw away the merchandise and never watch another wrestling match again, but Damien can’t ever stop being fundamentally Damien. He settles down next to his lover, turning them so they're lying on their sides facing each other and he can easily wrap his arms around him and hold him against his chest.

  
  
"You're worth it Damien. You’re so worth it, it makes my bones ache. I feel privileged to take every extra step you need to make you happy. You aren't baggage and you're _not_ tricking me- or anyone else by being yourself. I know I can't undo a lifetime of anxiety and worry in one night. You _are_ my first choice, Damien, and it's not _in spite of_ your identity. That's not an unfortunate extra fact I have to put up with. It’s just another amazing part of the incredible, smart, brave, wonderful man I'm falling in love with. It's not a hardship, it's just new. Like everything in a relationship is at first- and that's a good thing. It's exciting."

  
  
There’s absolutely nothing sexy about wheeze-sobbing into the shirt his lover has worn for two days now, but that doesn’t stop Damien. The clouds don’t quite part, but he’s starting to see little rays of sunlight filtering through the holes as Hugo hurls lightning bolts of positivity through them to clear them away. These are the words Damien has been aching to hear since the first time he pulled his hair back in a mirror to see what it might look like short.

  
  
The tears aren’t completely gone when he tugs Hugo back over to cover him with his body. The warm bulk of him is so comforting, he can feel that warmth seep all the way down into his soul. His eyes are red and smudged with day-old eyeliner that he slept in, and his voice is practically more than a hoarse whisper when he says, “Touch me, please,” and he knows he can trust Hugo to do it with love.

  
  
Hugo smiles and brings their lips together, kissing Damien slowly as his hand creeps under his shirt again. Fingers skim over his soft skin, feeling the small dips and curves of Damien's abs. Well, attempt at abs. They're visible in the right lighting, if he clenches.

  
  
He works his tongue into the other man's mouth, slow and gentle while his hand creeps higher. He stops just short of the small swell of Damien's breast, pulling back to look into his eyes and make sure he's okay with this before he keeps going. Damien is afraid, but just like Hugo was afraid at the door of his private room before he showed Damien the collection that meant so much to him, Damien knew he had to do this. He had to open the door despite the fear. He had to let Hugo in.

  
  
To his surprise, the sensation of Hugo’s hand cupping his chest makes him gasp out loud. He can’t recall if _anybody_ has ever put their hands on his breasts, even when he fiddled around in junior high. Hugo’s hand is so big, and his chest is so meager, it makes him feel almost flat chested in comparison to the warm, wide fingers grazing his skin- and he likes it. His bones are red-hot under Hugo’s touch, and he feels heat rising behind his eyes. Not tears this time. His legs fall open and he realizes the discomfort of the jeans he’d fallen asleep in, but he doesn’t want to break this kiss for a moment. Both of his hands are gathered up in fists in Hugo’s shirt, clinging to him and scraping his teeth over his tongue. The heat is back in his belly, overpowering the fear a toe-step more with every thrum of his heart.  

  
  
Damien's gasp and the way he arches just a little into Hugo's touch, almost instinctively as if he doesn't even realize he's doing it, is all the encouragement the larger man needs. His jeans are tight against his erection and he can't help grinding against Damien as he continues to kiss and touch him. This isn't so different from the other men he's been with, he realizes. The only real difference is how sensitive Damien is, how he gasps and moves when Hugo's thumb brushes over his nipple. It's exhilarating, drawing those little sounds out of the man beneath him and Hugo does it again just to hear him.

  
  
“You- oh-” Damien tries to offer words of encouragement, but when Hugo’s mustache tickles his neck as he trails kisses there, he loses the will to speak through the gasps. His voice is so trashed as it is, he’ll save it for when he really needs it. One of his arms lifts to tangle his hand in Hugo’s hair, and with the other he reaches down to undo the belt still around his hips.

  
  
Shimmying out of his jeans while under the blankets isn’t the sexiest thing he could do, but Hugo only laughs at his enthusiasm as he wiggles his legs out of the jeans and kicks them to the floor. He feels Hugo’s groin brush against his thigh, and it makes him quiver slightly. For a moment he feels suddenly like a young victorian debutante, having a secret tryst with her handsome tutor while her parents are away-- he’ll have to bring that idea up with Hugo later. Hugo seems like the roleplaying type.

  
  
Pulling away a little Hugo tugs Damien's shirt up, urging him to lift his arms to he can toss the garment aside. He doesn't waste much time admiring Damien, there will be plenty of time for that later, before dipping back down to kiss his way down the man's sternum, diverting to kiss his chest and swirl his tongue around his sensitive nipples, loving the way Damien gasps and his fingers tighten in his hair. He continues kissing his way down his lover's stomach, feeling the muscles jump and tremble when his mustache tickles him or when he stops to leave a mark somewhere particularly sensitive.

  
  
There’s a flicker of fear in Damien’s heart once that shirt comes off, the stormclouds still doing their best to convince him that despite every evidence to the contrary, Hugo will still be shocked to find that Damien hasn’t been kidding this whole time, that he really doesn’t have the ‘right parts.’ But the shirt comes off and Hugo touches his chest with his lips and his mouth, and Damien melts.

  
  
Hugo’s mouth feels like salvation from every dark corner of Damien’s mind as it kisses farther and farther down his belly. Every kiss feels like a spot of light, burning into his body and shining out of his skin. His legs fall open comfortably, the fear begins to subside. It’s there again for a moment, when Hugo’s mouth nears the hem of his underwear, but all it takes is one look down into his face to know that Hugo knows his fear. He keeps Damien’s eye as he presses a determined, comforting kiss to his inner thigh. They’re both equally nervous to disappoint the other, but in his heart, he knows Hugo could never disappoint him. He nods.

  
  
Hugo kneels up so he can tug off Damian's underwear and for the first time gets a good look at what he's wearing. And immediately starts to laugh. He tries to hold it back but the giggle fit is too much and he can't keep it contained.

  
  
"I'm sorry. I'm not laughing at you." He assures Damian. "Just, they're so cute." He explains, gesturing to his lover's black underpants, patterned with white pentacles and stylized occult imagery.

  
  
"I kind of expected you to be wearing historically accurate underthings." He says, giggles subsiding. He hooks his fingers into the waistband and gently tugs, urging Damien to raise his hips so he can easily slip the cotton pants down his long slim legs.

  
  
“Shut up,” Damien pats his hands on Hugo’s shoulders, trying to hide his smile. “I _have_ period-appropriate smalls, but I don’t wear them with _jeans_. We were going to see wrestling, not re-enacting. They were a gift from Mary, don’t make fun.”

  
  
The last little flutter of nerves crop up as the underwear come off, and his packer tumbles out. He blushingly grabs it and sets it on the night stand, his knees self-consciously glued together. He worries his lip in his teeth, gazing up at Hugo. This is the moment of no return. The moment where he’ll know for sure whether his stormclouds have been right all along.

  
  
Hugo lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. He's been trying to seem confident to put Damian at ease but in reality, he's nervous. This is uncharted territory for him. He had looked up porn so he isn't _completely_ uninformed but watching something and doing it is completely different. Still, he isn't going to back out now. He offers Damian a smile and gently urges his legs open until he can comfortably settle himself between them, coming face to face with Damien's groin. And, yes alright. It's different. Folds of soft sensitive skin around his center, wet with arousal, all covered with a layer of well trimmed hair. The smell is different too, stronger, but not unpleasant. And poking out from under it's hood his clit, larger than any Hugo had seen in his porn viewings.

  
  
He almost sighs in relief at the sight of it. It strongly resembles a small penis. At least this, he has some idea what to do with. Leaning forward he experimentally licks the sensitive tip before immediately looking up at Damien to make sure he's doing this right.  
  
Damien immediately seizes up, his belly hitching and his hands slapping over his mouth instinctively. He’s only ever had one other person’s face between his legs, and last time he’d been so compromised by dysphoria he didn’t even have a name for yet that he’d shoved him away in shame and confusion. The urge is there again this time to push Hugo away and snap his thighs together and insist he doesn’t ever really need Hugo to touch him- but he knows that’s unfair to both of them, especially because it’s not true. He does need Hugo to touch him, he needs Hugo to brush validation over his skin with his fingertips, he needs to know, to _know_ that it’s real.

  
  
“Like that,” his voice comes out shuddering, and he peels one hand off his face to rest it in a loose grip in Hugo’s hair. “Use your lips.”

  
  
Hugo nods to him before getting back to work, following Damien's advice and a little of what he'd gathered from the internet. He licks the length of Damien, dipping his tongue between his folds for a moment before returning to his clit, knowing that's going to be his comfort zone but not wanting to neglect any part of him. He seals his lips around the prominent glans, flicking his tongue over the bud and sucking gently, more gently than he usually would, until he gets the go ahead for more.

  
  
“Mmm!” Damien’s back arches up and his lips press together tightly. Pleasure hums in his belly and makes the muscles in his thighs go tight. He loops a leg over Hugo’s shoulder and his other hand comes to join the first in his hair as he rocks his hips up against his lover’s mouth. It’s clumsy, but that’s honestly all the more endearing, and it makes Damien’s heart hurt.

  
  
He lifts his head, propping a pillow under his neck so he can look down at Hugo, and the sight of him with his nose pressed to his pubic bone, his mustache all scrunched up and his brow creased in concentration, makes all the muscles in Damien’s pelvic floor leap. He gives a goofy, trembling smile to the other man, his voice hitching in the middle of his words. “You-ah! You’re doing- it’s good-”

  
  
A small hum of acknowledgement and joy at the praise slips out of Hugo. He's doing well. Thank goodness. He keeps up the suction and small flicks of his tongue for a little longer before pulling off Damien, giving the other man a moment to breathe before shifting down to lick and suck at his labia. He seals his lips over Damien's slit, working his tongue into his folds, tasting and licking before pressing further in, the tip of his tongue dipping inside him hesitantly at first and then a little more confidently.

  
  
Damien is in heaven. He doesn’t often pay too much attention to his own clit when he’s touching himself, he can never quite bring himself to not picture himself as a woman when he touches his own clit, but this- this feels different, miles different. Knowing Hugo is gay, and watching him with his face buried between his thighs- all thoughts and visualizations of being female leave his mind. He feels more comfortable in his body now like this than he ever has on his own. It brings tears to his eyes.

  
  
“Fingers,” he manages to gasp, his nails scraping at Hugo’s shoulder. “Puh... please, fingers. Put your- _yes_ ,” his head tips back when Hugo obeys, and slides a finger inside Damien. Lord have mercy, Hugo’s hands are big. He arches again, pressing his hips down into the touch, the spread, his skin is on fire and blooming with gardens of pleasure. “Tell me-” his teeth chatter. “Call it- my cock. Please.”

  
  
Hugo slides his finger in and out of Damien, a little astonished but the wet heat and the softness of the skin around him. It's a similar process of preparation that he's used to but easier, the muscles yielding around his finger so naturally, Damien’s fluids easing the way. He doesn’t pause for a moment, flicking his tongue over his sensitive head a few more times before lifting his head to meet Damien's eyes. "I love your cock." He says, voice huskier than usual. Dirty talk he can do. He's read enough literary smut to know how to do this at least. "It's beautiful. Your cock is perfect Damien. And so sensitive. I could suck your cock for hours."

  
  
Damien feels his entire body try to narrow into a single point, his thighs lifting up and his back arching in, a loud gasp making it out of his throat before he can clamp his hands down over his mouth. He curls inward like a pill bug, his thighs trembling and his feet arched, toes pointed like a dancer. He can see it so clearly when he closes his eyes, a long, pale cock arching off his hips. And when he opens his eyes, the illusion isn’t even broken. He feels _right_ like this.

  
  
He comes with a cry when Hugo’s tongue licks a long stripe up his center, and he takes him by the hair, his thighs closing around his ears and quivering as he rocks his hips up into Hugo’s tongue- rocks his cock up against his tongue. His whole body sings for a few seconds, and then he sags, his ankles unlinking from behind his shoulders. Panting hard, he lifts his lethargic arms up to beckon Hugo to crawl up his body. Grinning, Hugo does exactly that, crawling up over Damien to settle over him, wrapping his arms around him and twisting them so the small man is partially laying on top of him so he doesn't crush him under his weight.

  
  
"That was alright?" he asks. He's pretty sure, Damien looks happy, but he wants to know, to be absolutely sure he did this right and gave Damien the pleasure he deserves.

  
  
“Yes,” Damien tastes himself when he kisses Hugo, giggling through his nose at the sensation of his damp mustache. He laughs again, louder, when he settles on top of Hugo only to find he’s still wearing the jeans he collapsed into bed with. He pulls back to look down fondly at the warm-faced golden man under him, brushing his fingers through his hair. “It wasn’t... it was okay? For you as well?”

  
  
"It was." Hugo assures him. He shifts a little so his erection, still straining against the unyielding denim of his jeans, presses against Damien's thigh to let him know just how good it was. "It was different. And, I was nervous. I didn't want to do something wrong and hurt you. But the sounds you make when I got something right are beautiful."

  
  
“Oh, bite your tongue,” Damien drops his face to Hugo’s shoulder, grinning and flushed and giddy in the afterglow. “Might I reciprocate?” he asks, feeling somehow, perfectly comfortable being naked like this. He imagined that whenever he would have sex with Hugo, he would feel compelled to immediately clothe himself after, hide his body from the open air, but even with Hugo still wearing his shirt and jeans, he feels... comfortable isn’t the right word. He feels validated. Knowing that he can be in the presence of his gay lover, fully nude, and not repulse him, it feels like someone has taken his soul in their hands for the first time in his life, looked directly at it, and whispered ‘I love you’ with all the conviction in their heart.

  
  
"You don't have to, I'm alright just cuddling." Hugo assures him. He wants Damien and he's achingly hard but he doesn't mind just sitting there and enjoying Damien's afterglow with him. "Not that I'm saying no, but don't feel obligated." He turns so he can kiss Damien's head. "I wouldn't mind getting out of these jeans though, either way. Doesn't seem fair for you to be the only one undressed."

  
  
Damien lifts his hips up so he’s propped on his knees, sharing soft giggling kisses with Hugo as he opens his jeans and helps him shimmy out of them. The white briefs he wears under them are so heartbreakingly charming, Damien can only smile. He’s familiar with this, he has much more experience with touching than with being touched. Even then it’s been a couple years.

  
  
The weight of Hugo’s package in his hand is formidable, even before he’s laid eyes on it. He rolls his balls in one hand, closes his other around his shaft for a solid squeeze, and nips his ear and neck as his hands go to work. When was the last time somebody touched Hugo like this? His skin is so soft. Years? Damien can smell days-old cologne on his throat. His center pulses with want.

  
  
Hugo tugs his shirt off and tosses it aside before falling back onto the bed with a groan as Damien touches him. His eyes squeeze shut and he mutters a soft curse under his breath. It's been so long since anyone's touched him like this, he'd almost forgotten how good it feels to have someone else's hands on him.

  
  
"You make me feel like a teenager." he says, opening his eyes to look at Damien. He can feel his cheeks burning but he can't stop smiling. "You've barely touched me and already I feel like I'm on fire."

  
  
It strikes him that had they met as teenagers, Hugo never would have been interested in him, but he refuses to let it make him sad. They didn’t meet as teenagers, they met as fathers, as neighbors, they met at the perfect point in their lives for it to lead to this beautiful moment. Rainclouds be damned. Damien sits back to get a full look at Hugo, naked as the day he was born, and feels a shiver run the length of his body. He’s _beautiful_. Thick with soft muscle, heaving with heavy breaths under a blanket of dark hair, his hard cock draped over his thigh in a tuft of groomed black curls, red-faced and looking at Damien like he’s the only thing in the world.

  
  
“I love you,” Damien breathes, running his pale hands up through the hair on Hugo’s chest, and drags his nails back down in light, tickling scratches. “I want you to know that.”

  
  
Hugo shivers a little as Damien's blunt nails rake down his chest. He smiles and tilts his head to catch his lips in a soft kiss that lasts a few seconds before he pulls back, still close enough that their noses brush together.

  
  
"I love you too." he says, almost a whisper. "I haven't felt this way in a long time. I'm so glad we found each other."

  
  
Damien doesn’t have anything to add to that, so he doesn’t bother mincing words. He wraps his hand around Hugo’s cock and strokes him until he’s gasping, until he can watch his tummy flutter and jump with pleasure, and then straddles his waist with his hand between his legs to guide him. The gasp when Hugo enters him is immediate, and loud.

  
  
He’d honestly been nervous that Hugo’s size would be too much for him, but as he applies pressure with his hips and as Hugo sinks deeper, the stretch is nothing but sublime. His head tips back, long black hair cascading over his shoulders and clinging to the sweat on his throat, and he locks his elbows to keep from collapsing. This is what he’s been missing for so, so long.

  
  
"Fuck..." Hugo groans as Damien sinks down onto him. He can't believe how good he feels, how beautifully his body yields around him, taking him in so deep. He grasps the other's thighs and feels the muscles tremble under his hands even once he's fully seated.

  
  
Hugo forces himself to keep his eyes open, despite the temptation to close them and simply bask in sensation, and is so glad he never thought to take his glasses off earlier. Damien is exquisitely beautiful in his pleasure, pale skin flushed and glistening with sweat, hair falling all around him.

  
  
"You look like an angel," he breathes, staring up at him in wonder.

  
  
Damien’s whole body thrums with pleasure and affection, gazing down at Hugo with love in his eyes. He’s always struggled with his own self-image, sometimes he feels like he’s hiding behind layers of ruffles and lace and interest so nobody will see the plain person underneath. He’s spent his whole life looking at his face in the mirror and feeling so plain, so generic, without his aesthetic he just looks like a nobody.

  
  
But Hugo can see him, naked from head to toe, and think him angelic. It makes his heart lurch in his throat. Panting softly, he bends down over Hugo, propped on his hands on either side of his face, and his hair falls down like a curtain around them. The ends tickle Hugo’s shoulders and neck as Damien sways on top of him, slowly picking up speed. The friction of the slide, Hugo’s cock dragging against his walls makes his belly tense up with pleasure.

  
  
“Take my hips,” he pants, brown eyes blown wide with pleasure. “Claim me.”

  
  
Hugo slides his hands up to Damien's hips and holds on tight, amazed by how easily his slim hips fit in his hands. He gives one small experimental thrust up into the warm body surrounding him, careful not to be rough for fear of hurting Damien but he feels so good and the sound he makes in response urges him to continue, meeting the movement of his hips with shallow thrusts.

  
  
Damien sits upright, throwing his head back in pleasure. The ache of pleasure sets into his hips, making his insides feel tight and twisted around. He lowers his hand to spread his fore and middle fingers around his cock, rubbing down hard against the hood. He’s so hard, the prominent nub pulsing and soaked. His moans are throaty and loud, completely unashamed in his pleasure. The house is empty and he has no reason to be silent.

  
  
“Hugo!” he gasps his name, rubbing his fingers roughly around his cock, tugging out slightly on the downstroke and pushing against it hard as he rubs back up. His thighs are trembling, his back bowed out, on the verge of collapsing in pleasure.

  
  
"Damien!" Hugo groans in response. He thrusts a little harder, a little faster, losing some of his tightly held control as his pleasure mounts. Damien's body trembles around him, he can tell he's getting close and it feels so good. "Can I?" he asks Damien, one hand hovering over his cock while he waits for permission. He wants to touch him, wants to rub his cock and bring him to orgasm again, together this time.

  
  
“Yes,” Damien replies breathlessly, moving his hand away. “Over, flip over. I want you on top of me.”

  
  
He gives a quiet shriek of delight as Hugo complies, holding onto his shoulders as they roll over on the bed. Hugo slipped halfway out of him, and when he thrusts back inside and his pubic bone grinds against Damien’s cock, his back arches and his head presses back into the pillow and his moan goes embarrassingly high pitched. The new angle makes it easier to thrust and Hugo grips the headboard in one hand for better leverage. His other hands slips between them so he can rub Damien's cock. He's nearing the edge now but he wants to bring the other man off with him, to feel them find completion together.

 

His hips snap a little harder despite pouring every ounce of self control into not going too fast, that little voice in the back of his mind still warning him that he might hurt Damien. He rubs his cock in rough circles, teasing the wet head and the hood as best he can. He gasps a warning that he's close, so close, and if Damien wants him to stop, to pull out, now's his chance to say so.

  
  
“Oh! Ohh! Yes! _Yes!”_ Damien’s back arches, his hand flies up to clamp over Hugo’s on the headboard. He can barely keep his eyes open, his brows nearly touching in the center they’re pinched so far. Hugo looks wild over him like this, powerful, golden and strong, and he feels comforted by it.

  
  
When he comes, he very nearly blacks out. He forgets to breathe and his back arches up until the only parts of him touching the bed are his ass and his shoulders. He claws at Hugo’s shoulder, leaving raised lines in his skin, and all he can manage is a pitiful squeak as his walls pulse and squeeze around Hugo.

  
  
"Fuck," Hugo groans. He can't hold back, with Damien's body squeezing so perfectly around him. He gives a few last shuddering thrusts as he comes, moaning Damien's name while the other man shudders and writhes beneath him.

  
  
It takes everything he has not to collapse on top of Damien as the last aftershocks course through him. He sags, feeling loose and wonderful but is careful not to crush his lover. Damien sighs and shudders as Hugo pulls out of him, flopping over onto his side and rolling onto his back. They’re both breathing hard as Damien drags himself up onto Hugo’s chest with his help, and he lets his head drop against his shoulder.

  
  
“My _stars_...” he says, his voice hoarse and strained. If he thought it was bad after the screaming at the wrestling match, it’s absolutely shattered now. “You’re positively _bestial_.”

  
  
Hugo chuckles a little breathlessly and wraps his arms around Damien. "You think so? I'm glad I went easy then." He turns to kiss Damien's head and enjoy a few moments of afterglow before he knows he'll start to feel sticky and be compelled to get up and get washcloths to clean them both up. As his mind and heart rate settle a sudden thought occurs to him. "You're on birth control, right?" he asks, looking down at Damien resting on his chest.

  
  
“In a sense,” Damien chuckles without lifting his head. “You have nothing to worry about, I’m not so irresponsible, you should know that. The hormones that I'm on takes care of that by blocking the hormones that cause ovulation. It's a fascinating process, and I've been told I don't need birth control at all in combination with it- it might even make both the birth control _and_ the hormones less effective.” he rubs his hand over Hugo’s chest, sighing in delight. He drags himself up a few inches higher so he can meet Hugo’s mouth in a lazy kiss. He smiles up at him, feeling giddy all of a sudden, and shyly hides his face in Hugo’s shoulder.

  
  
"I just wanted to be sure." Hugo says, relaxing again. He starts absentmindedly petting Damien's hair, running his fingers through the long strands while they lie together. He grins down at Damien and laughs at him hiding in his face. "Everything alright?"

  
  
“Yes, I just,” emotion makes his rough voice thicker. “I’m just in love,” he sob-laughs against Hugo’s skin, soaking the warmth from his body in the dying afternoon light as the stripes on the wall from the blinds crawl steadily lower. “I’m in _love_.”


End file.
